Dear Maria

    Last month, in August 2022, my first novel was finally published by a local indie pub. It is a dream come true, I know. However, I cannot seem to feel enthusiastic about it. 

    I do not know when it started: this feeling that I do not deserve my accomplishments. Was it in college? When I thought I could have graduated magna cum laude instead of cum laude if only I studied hard more. Or was it in high school? When everyone, including myself, was expecting I would graduate as the class valedictorian only to fall into rank four.

    They call it Imposter Syndrome, a phenomenon that occurs among high achievers who are unable to internalize and accept their success. They often attribute their accomplishments to luck rather than to ability and fear that others will eventually unmask them as fraud.

    I only realized that I could have been suffering from this when I was hired as a legal officer despite having no experience in the legal field. I did not even apply for that job. They offered it to me. And they did when I was already getting comfortable working a boring job at home and wondering what I was doing with my life. I accepted the job, but I had a hard time believing that someone would have seen the potential I, myself, even failed to see. It was even harder to accept praise from my supervisor who said I was doing well and beyond her expectations because I did not think I was.

    Then, sometime in December 2021, I tried to submit my novel to a national competition. It did not win though. I also tried to submit it to a known publisher, but it was rejected. I have been used to rejections, so I think I have been immune to it. But I am not used to achievements, like when another publisher accepted my work, so I do not know how to react. Should I be happy? I should have been. However, I am afraid that no one would appreciate my work and that no one would read it. That I might only humiliate myself for trying so hard. It has already been rejected twice, surely something is wrong with it. Readers would not probably like it.

    I do not want to be too hard on myself, but I cannot help it. I tend to be a perfectionist although I do not want to be. I know I should be happy and grateful for the small and big wins I achieve, but it seems I no longer know how to be happy. I no longer get excited over such things. I just take it and leave, without knowing what to do with it.

    For years, I have been hoping to be happy. Now, I no longer know how to be.